Lothiriel's Musings on Eomer's
by Domestic Duchess
Summary: Lothiriel fondly recalls the first time she saw Eomer's...


Author's Note:

There's really nothing to say here... ;-o

Hopefully this is funny!

Meant to be light hearted in contrast the The Assassin's Creed which is more dramatic. I love reviews of any kind so if you leave one i will respond! Thanks for reading!

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The day of our wedding was not the first time I had seen it…

We rode out one morning several miles from Edoras to a spot in a wooded clearing were my beloved Eomer liked to sit, think and relax. So I gasped in surprise when he pulled it out.

I had seen others of course. I grew up the only girl in a household of men. Even my extended family was mostly male, so it was only inevitable that I would come into contact with one someday. My brothers always hid theirs, which was perfectly fine. And I had seen my cousin Boromir's one time while he was asleep. It was enormous and I was embarrassed to even look at it because of the shivering waves that coursed through my young, naïve body. Did every man have one so big or was it just the men in my family?

I had even touched one once! On the beach several summers ago, when I was nineteen; that was the first time I held one in my hand. A young Swan Knight of my father's, he was. I was completely enamored with him and he made me so dreamily light headed and delirious with excitement I thought I might swoon like the melodramatic ladies of Dol Amroth's royal court when we found time to be alone. And that day on the beach I had to steady myself against his arm thinking I would fall to pieces when he pulled it out and insisted that if I didn't touch it I would always wonder what it was like. My father, Valar bless him, is so overly protective. If he had known what we were doing, he would have been madder than a hornet stuck in jar.

I wont deny wanting to see Eomer's. I had been lowering my eyes flirtatiously in that direction for days, not to mention imagining what it would be like unsheathed in the glow of the hot summer sun or by the flickering firelight in our bedroom on our wedding night.

Eomer was quick to show me, the overzealous barbarian that he is. He whipped it from its confining barrier so easily I was honestly a little startled.

Undoubtedly, it was the biggest one I had ever seen.

It was so hard… rigid, inflexible, unyielding…when used properly I imagined it could be quite painful, or, I grinned, quite deadly when in action!

I was taken aback at the ease with which he held it in his own hand. My expression must have been one of complete awe because he drew me close and said,

"It's alright. It won't hurt you."

He wrapped my slender fingers around the hilt, and an erotic spark shot up my arm and zoomed in circles around my heart, looping around my belly and fizzling in shimmers between my legs. I had never felt anything like his before. He could have taken me right there. I was melting like an ice in boiling water.

I looked down in amusement at our intertwined fingers. His hand was meaty and his long, calloused, fingers were incredibly thick as he helped me hold it just right. And I wondered how any one else except him would have the endurance and strength to hold it let alone wield it to his satisfaction and demanding standards.

Great Eu's balls it was long! He let me run my hand down its length. Warm and smooth, my fingers were trembling when I finally reached the tip. Eomer's eyes sparkled with the debauchery of a sixteen year old boy instead of the refined masculinity of a full grown man and I'm sure he enjoyed watching my reaction to its feeling as much as seeing me touch it. I let my hand run back down his weapon until our hands touched again and he caught my eye. I giggled nervously hoping he wouldn't notice I was afraid and put it away.

We held it together, his hand over mine. I was feeling rather shy. We really had not known each other for very long, and this new found intimacy and trust was truly an amazing feeling. It was almost like we knew without saying what pleased the other.

Eomer broke the uncomfortable silence between us with a light hearted joke,

"It smells a little funny."

I raised my eyebrows quizzically. I would just have to find out for myself, so I leaned down and sniffed.

_Hmm…_ I though, _he's right._

It did have a rather carnal, and leathery scent, but then again, he nearly always smelled of leather or cedar or sandalwood. A mischievous smile curved his mouth as I bent over it smelling and appreciating its craftsmanship and, flashing my own impish smile, wondered if his fore fathers would be proud of such a finely honed piece of weaponry. Perhaps the feeling of our hands on it wasn't enough I realized as his smile widened; he liked seeing my head or at least my face so close to it. He seemingly dripped with virility and courage, tenacity and honor as I hovered so near.

"Hmm…," I asked, looking up at him, feeling bold and fiercely feminine next to his raw strength, "Does it taste funny too?"

I knew I had caught him off guard, because his smile disappeared, replaced with a look of curiosity and anticipated pleasure.

I lowered my head again sliding my moist tongue, slippery as morning dew, along the hollow of his warm, stiff blade, and sucked gingerly on the tip with my pink lips. He was fully intrigued, that was certain, and a red flush was creeping up the skin of his neck.

"That's a dangerous thing to do," he noted tentatively.

I also began wondering how many other women he had shown it to. How many others had touched it before I did on this sultry, late summer day? Suddenly, I felt rather inconsequential. There had been others before me. Would I be able to handle it the way his other women had? Or would I make a fool of myself and reveal my inexperience?

Eomer has this uncanny ability to read my mind, and his sixth sense was kicking in now.

He asked, "You're afraid, aren't you?"

I nodded, cautiously.

"Don't worry," he said, reassuringly with a voice so rich and deep that it reminded me of molten gold, "I'll show you how."

He gathered me in to the safety of his arms, and encouraged me to hold it again. Its girth was so thick that my fingers didn't even touch. Eomer wrapped the fingers of my other hand over it so I would have a firm grip. Then he relaxed and watched as I held it for him. It was so wonderful to hold all by myself, and it was nice that Eomer showed me what to do instead of just letting me play.

I wondered if all married women in the Mark had one like this, and maybe that's why they all seemed so happy and content.

We settled back into the curving base of a giant oak a tree and let my fingers roam over it affectionately; caressing and admiring it as though I might diminish if I didn't show it the love and respect it deserved. I wasn't sure who was more grateful that day; Eomer for the way I was able to handle it or me for having been allowed to see and touch it.

And I knew when I saw it again on our wedding day I would truly find happiness with it and its owner.

After all, I am a red blooded woman and a man's sword makes me quiver like a spindling wild flower in a raging thunderstorm.

And Guthwine was the most magnificent broadsword I have ever seen…

What did you think I was talking about?


End file.
